The Frog and Nightgown Inn
by krisnreine
Summary: It was one of the oldest establishments in the village and had a very ignoble reputation. However, what it lacked in lush amenities it made up for in anonymity. For his purposes, the Frog and Nightgown was a most appropriate location. (Complete!)
1. Chapter 1

_I recently drove 3000 miles with only the company of two (very untalkative) Briards. Between listening to classic radio serials and singing my head off into the spring wind, I also mentally outlined an entire fic, which would become this story. Perhaps a little different than the offerings you may be used to from me, I still firmly stand beside my chosen pairing and I hope you'll remember that.  
_

_In short all I ask is that you, dear readers, trust me. I __promise__ not to lead you astray. _

_So. Are you afraid? Don't be. It will only hurt for a little while._

* * *

The carefully folded note was tucked between the ledgers on Robert's desk in the library, and he was sure it hadn't been there before luncheon. Once he unfolded and read it, he knew for certain it hadn't been there.

He heard Cora enter the room behind him, speaking hurriedly to Carson who was trailing behind her. Without much tact he crumpled the handwritten note and stuffed it into his pocket before turning and catching the last of her instructions to the butler.

"Yes, my lady." Carson said with a quick bow and backed out of the room to begin the exhaustive list she'd just assigned him.

With a sigh, she dropped onto the settee and rested her forehead in her palm.

"We'll have our home back to normal yet." It was no secret that Robert was eager to have Downton returned to its pre-war status as a home, not a hospital. She knew it would please him to see her working so hard to make that happen for him.

"You've done a wonderful job," He said and meant it. While she had still been too busy to see to her duties as a wife, she had excelled at managing the big house. It was enough to make his mother eat her words, and he was forced to admit that was no small thing. "I missed you at luncheon."

The guilt on her face was plain, considering she had not a week previous apologized for being unavailable. Once again missing a meal at Robert's side, she knew, was positively unforgivable. But she was still terribly behind from her bout with that awful flu. It wounded her to see her husband so obligingly distant.

"I don't mean that as anything but a statement." His eyes were gentle and sad. "I missed you."

She held his gaze, blue meeting blue, for a long silent moment filled with unvoiced accusations and half-accomplished forgiveness.

"I missed you too." She said at last.

* * *

Robert found himself fixating on the crushed paper in his pocket all day, running the words repeatedly in his mind even as he brushed his fingers across the paper. Over and over he dipped his fingers into his coat to assure himself that he hadn't lost it.

Thoughts of its significance distracted him through his daily rituals and even through dinner. Even his mother remarked on his unusually quiet presence, when it was hardly like Lady Violet to argue when she had sole custody of the evening's discourse.

Once the meal had broken up and they'd spent the dignified amount of time socializing in the drawing room, Cora nodded to Carson and everyone stood to retire. Robert watched as Cora walked his mother to the front door silently marvelling at how their relationship appeared to have grown. It was something of a regret to Robert that he allowed Cora to be so influenced by his mother, for he saw evidence of that influence grow greater each day.

After the Dowager was set safely on her way. the girls made their own journey up the stairs. Edith and Mary continued bickering relentlessly over some unimportant detail from the evening's conversation, their argument eventually fading as they reached the hallway leading to their rooms.

Robert offered a small smile and his arm to his wife and they began to climb the staircase in silence. At the first landing up Cora once more asked Robert if everything was quite alright.

"No," he admitted at last. "I've had a headache nearly all afternoon. I'm afraid it has made me rather grumpy. I won't saddle you with my bad mood tonight, my love. If you've no objection, I think I will sleep in my dressing room."

Cora nodded in understanding, and Robert wondered if he had merely dreamt the vague look of disappointment in her face. After all, she had been falling asleep almost as soon as she curled into her pillows at night. It wasn't as though she would truly miss him that much.

At the door to her room he kissed her cheek and she turned her face just enough that his lips landed on the corner of her mouth. The small smile she gave him was cheeky and inviting, but also resigned, and he brushed his fingers under her chin. "Good night."

"Good night."

Her bedroom door closed solidly between them.

* * *

It seemed to Robert to take an interminable time to get through his nightly routine of dressing for bed. He wanted to push Thomas out of the room bodily when the young man set to doing menial tasks once Robert sat down, setting his cuff-links just so and polishing a few of the snuffboxes.

"I'll see to your Lordship in the morning." Thomas said at long last and took his leave. Robert couldn't quite contain his sight of relief. Extinguishing the light at his bedside he remained seated on the side of his bed and he watched the light and shadows play under the door to Cora's room.

The muffled voices spoke at length and casually, and not for the first time Robert wondered what on earth his wife saw in Mrs. O'Brien. As far as he was concerned, she was a gossiping shrew who could not be trusted as far as she could be thrown. For reasons unknown to him, Cora fostered an affection for the woman and defended her staunchly at every turn. But it was Cora's dogged loyalty that got them to this point in their lives, so he knew it was unwise to question it.

When at long last the light went out next door, Robert listened as the O'Brien's footsteps faded down the hall.

For good measure, he waited another hour until the house settled completely. Downton was never silent, but over the years he had become quite familiar with the sound of the sleeping house. Assured that it was as still as possible, Robert quickly and quietly re-dressed into riding pants and a loose shirt. It was not the most dignified of outfits, more suited for working in the fields than anything, but it was all he had at short notice. It wasn't as if he could simply ask Thomas to find him appropriate casual attire to wear in the middle of the night.

Grabbing his boots he pressed his ear to Cora's bedroom door and listened for a long aching moment. Not a single sound could be heard, and he assured himself that now was the perfect time.

With practiced steps borne of repetition, Robert made his way silently through long dark hallways, down the front stairway, and out a rarely used side door. Pausing on the stone steps he slipped into his boots before trotting quietly to the barn.

He bypassed the stall of his prized mare, Jezebel, and instead chose a non-descript chestnut gelding. A stabled ride used for the more inexperienced at the hunt, the creature was nevertheless quick and affable and, most importantly, unfamiliar to most of the people in the village.

Robert made quick work of the tack and it was only a quarter of an hour later when he led the horse out of the stall. Sticking to the shadows they moved slowly in the direction of the road to the village. Once out of sight of the house, Robert swung into the saddle and urged the horse into a hasty trot.

The moon was new. The dirt road between Downton and its surrounding village was canopied by heavy trees and it was quite dark. Robert was forced to rely on the horse's innate sense of balance and sure-footing through most of the ride, focusing on staying upright and not allowing his nerves to get the better of him.

Another ten minutes later and lights began to seep through the darkness. Homes and taverns spilled a golden glow into the darkest part of the night and they grew brighter the closer Robert got to town. Just before the dirt road led into the village's main thoroughfare, Robert turned left and led the horse along the outskirt of town. He was able to see better without the cover of trees, but with so many dwellings and businesses so close, he didn't think it was that much of a blessing. It always vexed him, just how vulnerable he was on these rides. Vulnerable to recognition, to being found out.

But as he always did, he put it out of his mind.

Going this route was longer, but it afforded him the advantage of circumventing Grantham House as well as the Dower house. No point in creating even more difficulties for himself than he already was.

Finally, just as he was beginning to feel the pinch of nerves, the Inn came into view.

It was one of the oldest establishments in the village and had a very ignoble reputation. However what it lacked in lush amenities it made up for in anonymity.

For his purposes, the Frog and Nightgown was a most appropriate location.

* * *

Robert saw to his horse quickly and quietly, pleased to find an open stall this late at night. He crossed the bare open space between the stable and the Inn and was momentarily startled by the wizened face staring at him through the glass of the back door. The dancing shadows from the candle in her hand caused her to appear even more displeased than usual as she pushed open the door for him and stepped back.

Once inside she stared at him with unblinking black eyes; eyes he knew saw right into his very soul. Dipping his hands into his coat Robert pressed a wad of money into the old woman's leathery hand and repeated the words he said every time he visited.

"There is no need for Lady Grantham to hear about this."

* * *

During past visits the old woman would lead the way to the room at the back of the Inn. But she merely inclined her head in the right direction, passed him the candle, and shuffled off to the muted sounds of the pub housed in the front of the building. Robert waited until everything was silent again before turning to the cramped staircase leading to the bedroom.

He didn't really need the light, for he knew the way by heart.

He paused just outside the door, and took a brief and uncharacteristic moment to reflect on what he was doing, and why. But why didn't matter. He was driven to her side whenever she called, and if he was in for a penny, he was in for a pound.

Consequences be damned.

He knocked just once, softly, before heading inside.

* * *

She was luminous in the small bed, her clothing folded neatly on the room's lone chair. She had the scratchy sheet pulled up above her breasts and her skin was alarmingly pale in the flickering gold glow.

Loss made her appear older than her years, but his desire saw only the smoothness of her skin, the swell of her breasts beneath the sheet, the pink stain of desire in her cheeks.

Perhaps if he wasn't so hungry for her touch, to feel a connection to a human being, he would have acknowledged his guilt at using someone so frail. Someone who had so recently experienced such pain.

And yet there she was, holding her arms open for him. He didn't hesitate; didn't think about anything but ridding himself of his clothing and crawling nude across the creaky little bed to press his entire body into her. She gasped and his mouth covered hers, his tongue pressing between her lips.

He was demanding, hungry, and so violently angry all at the same time.

She didn't seem to mind his bruising fingers, or his hurried press into her body. She encouraged him with fingers and sighs and open-mouthed kisses. Her hips undulated in the rhythm he set, which was demanding and slightly uncomfortable for her. His pleasure was her pleasure, and she felt it her duty to erase the discontent from his face. After all, it was the only thing she had to offer him.

The muscles in his neck corded under her teeth and the pain was intense bliss.

With one hand on the mattress beside her head, he lifted her hips and changed position to bury deeper. Her grunt conveyed a mixture of pleasure and pain and he continued his driven press into her warmth.

Sweat pooled at the base of her neck and he lapped it away, closing his eyes and pressing harder, twisting his fingers into the mattress until they positively ached.

He felt her body contracting around him and still he surged on, a man possessed, release staying just out of his reach. It took him a second to recognize the keening noise was coming from him, as his mind begged for the release his body traitorous body wouldn't allow.

"Robert," She spoke so softly, her lips brushing against his ear. "My lord."

Every muscle in his body went taught. He collapsed against her with a loud groan.

Relief.

* * *

Robert lay cradled between her thighs for long silent minutes. She rubbed her palms soothingly over his back and peppered kisses against his hair. It bothered him that his hair was so silver, declaring his age as compared to her youth.

She didn't mind, she'd told him once. It made him look so dashing, so dignified.

Robert wasn't sure that he wanted to be dignified. Not with her, not in this room where he had been anything but dignified many times over.

"I should go," He almost didn't recognize his own husky voice. She clasped his hips with her thighs once, before letting them fall open and releasing her hold on him. He pushed away reluctantly and began to dress. The tension that had knotted his muscles all day released and he felt loose and limber and, dare he think it? Relaxed.

Once dressed he sat beside her on the bed and allowed himself the luxury of looking at her properly. Her smile was languid but the edges were tinged with nervousness.

"I'm sorry." She said at long last, when his slow perusal of her face began to make her uncomfortable. "I just...had to see you."

Lifting his fingers in his hands he brought them to his lips and smiled as he kissed them. "Don't ever apologize for wanting me."

"What are we doing, Robert?" She asked, and her expression begged from him something he wasn't sure he could give. She wanted so much from their union, more than he thought he was capable of providing. Once more he was struck by the unfairness of it all, of their fragile relationship, of his title, of deception, of loss.

Of everything.

"I have to get back." He answered. There was no answer or explanation; there was no room for one. And he knew she understood. "It is I who am sorry. I've brought us to this place, and now...I don't know what we are to do."

"Tell me you love me?" Her voice was weak and it stabbed at his heart.

"I do. Very much."

And then he was gone.

* * *

_This is but 1 of 4. And this time, I know exactly where I'm going. Release that breath you're holding. All will be okay in the end._


	2. Chapter 2

Mere days passed since that fateful night at the Inn, and yet Robert found he couldn't get those few blissful hours out of his mind. The connection, no matter how tenuous, was genuine and he so longed to feel connected. The war had made them all strangers living under the same roof, their conversations often occurring at cross-purposes. At times he didn't even recognize his daughters, with Edith dressed as a farmhand and Sybil in the uniform of a nurse. Even Mary had morphed into a woman more serious, less frivolous. Her sharp tongue dulled under the onslaught of the wounded and broken men who filled their house, and she began to lose weight as the stress and fear of the war ground at her.

And Cora...Cora was brave and beautiful and distant. Maddeningly far away, desperately out of reach. It seemed as though they no longer spoke the same language. Communication, which had always been a cornerstone of their marriage, was broken. A malfunctioning cable wire that only let every third word through.

And yet, for a brief respite, Robert had felt alive again. Alive in the arms of a woman he was only getting to know in this new world of theirs.

It was a spoken rule, established from the very beginning, that they not meet more than once in a week. It was careless and dangerous for them to meet at the Inn at all, especially so often. Suspicions would be raised, questions asked, harsh truths revealed. However, lately, Robert hadn't been particularly good at following rules, so he composed his own note. He wasn't sure how he'd deliver it unnoticed, but he'd found himself to be surprisingly resourceful in his lifetime.

When the opportunity presents itself, as they pass in the hallway without even making eye contact, he presses the paper into her palm. She continues past him without a break in her stride and there they are. Strangers in the same space, their only commonality their desire for one another.

Perhaps it would be enough.

* * *

By nightfall the ritual began again, and as he sat alone in his dressing room he found himself ruminating on the very first night he followed her to the Inn. The night that started it all - the night that started his fall.

* * *

_Unnerved and slightly irritated by his wife, Robert sat in his dressing room, regret overriding pique. He said things to her that he regretted terribly, but felt that the door closed between their rooms was a physical symbol of the distance between them. How did one apologize for saying such things anyway?_

_Unable to relax, Robert stood to pace, running the argument over in his head, the vision of Cora's hurt expression imprinted on the backs of his eyelids._

_She hadn't cried, but he could see the toll her stoicism took on her when her shoulders bowed beneath her nightdress. She turned away from him and crawled into her bed, her rangy body curling fetally. He could only stare dumbly and wonder how had they come to this place and in so short a time._

_Stepping up to the window of his bedroom, he placed his palm and forehead against the glass. The cool surface felt divine against his overheated skin, and he closed his eyes once more. His racing mind wouldn't settle, but exhaustion had him yawning widely. He was about to turn and attempt sleep when a shadow on the lawn caught his attention._

_A figure, hunched under a plain wool coat, was picking through the garden and heading for the protective shadow of the trees. He hadn't known her for very long, but he recognized the woman beneath the coat, and he couldn't help but wonder where she was going in the middle of the night._

_A lover? Surely not._

_Hurriedly throwing on some clothes, it nevertheless took him nearly half an hour to swing onto his horse and canter off in the direction the figure had gone. He caught up with her halfway to the village, and once her surprise was under control, the look she gave him was scornful._

_"What can I do for you this evening, My Lord?" She asked, her tone bitter._

_"You shouldn't be out by yourself in the dead of night. It's a scandal waiting to happen."_

_"Scandal is something your people worry about. Not mine. I'm common, remember?"_

_"At least let me give you a ride." He replied, asking his mount to keep pace with her quick stride._

_"I'm fine."_

_"You're angry."_

_Her look, half hidden by shadows, was both incredulous and poisonous. "Figured that out all by yourself, have you?"_

_He tried again. "Please. I know I've caused you a great deal of pain in recent weeks. Let me see you safely to the village at the very least."_

_The wool coat over the simple cotton nightgown wasn't enough to protect her from the chilly breeze, and the anger that drove her from the protection of the big house had started to dissolve into chilly sorrow. It only took her a few empty seconds before she finally nodded and reached for his hand._

_It startled him, how perfectly her body fit against his, her back pressed to his chest. He was forced to wrap his arms around her middle to access the reins and she snuggled back into the warmth of him._

_They rode quietly down the dirt road, each lost in their own thoughts, their hearts beating in time with the gentle clop-clop of the horse's hooves. She rehashed the choices that led her to this place, out of her element and falling in love with a man she hardly knew. He was completely distracted by the press of her young body to his, and the scent of her hair that wafted on the cold breeze. And the damage he had done to her by being...him._

_"We shouldn't be doing this." She said at long last, when his palm brushed over her abdomen and she shifted away from him._

_"I'm merely giving you a ride to the village." He said conversationally, removing his hands with some regret, but able to take the hint from a disinterested party._

_"That is not exactly my meaning, Robert." She tried not to be amused by him, even as her heart broke because of him. He was so handsome, so powerful, and to most everyone she knew, so terribly kind. How much was she expected to lose in mere months? She wouldn't be able to survive losing her heart and having it broken._

_...i..._

_It was well past two in the morning when he rode up to the Frog and Nightgown Inn, letting her slide from his lap near the rear entrance. He told her he would stable the horse then meet her inside to settle a room for her. After a good night's rest, she would be able to think more clearly._

_The woman proprietor met them at the back door, and her expression was cold. "Ain't but one room left in the 'ole place, milord." She said, indicating a rickety staircase to their right. "Small but will serve the lady, I 'magine. Will you be staying the night too, sir?"_

_Her implication was clear, and just to be sure he understood her meaning, she held out her palm. Robert dug into his pocket and was relieved to find a few pounds crumpled there._

_"I hope this will cover the room." He said, and pressed the money into her palm. He waited until her stone-black eyes met his and he lowered his voice. "As well as your discretion. There's no reason for Lady Grantham to know about this."_

_"Aye, sir." The woman nodded and bowed, just a bit. "Won't hear nuthin' from me, milord. I don't know anything from nothing."_

_Pushing past them both she led the way up the stairs and entered the room. She lit the lone candle then scuttled sideways out the door, her movements remarkable crablike. She was deceptively quick. He heard the patter of her footsteps as she returned to the main floor._

_And quite suddenly, they were alone._

_Her discomfort was plain, so Robert kept his distance and sat tentatively in a broken down chair in the corner._

_She ran her hands over the thin coverlet on the bed and sighed before shrugging out of the wool coat. Her nightgown was soiled at the hem but she didn't seem to mind as she pulled the blanket up and tucked her feet beneath its meager warmth._

_She stared down at her hands and a blush crept up her cheeks as she felt his gaze._

_She was beautiful. So young, so lovely. Her skin was radiant, even in the dim, flickering light. Her hair offset the pale peach of her lips and the deep blue well of her eyes._

_He'd never really noticed her hair before, as it was always tied back or up and out of the way._

_Now it tumbled over her shoulders in ebony waves, the ribbon that had held it lost somewhere on the long trek between Downton and the Inn._

_"Aren't you going to chastise me?" She asked at last, when color began returning to her cheeks as she warmed up again._

_He shook his head. He couldn't really be angry with her, not after everything that had happened between them, would still happen between them. He was mostly confused - had he given her the wrong impression? She was still so new in his world. New and wonderful and intriguing. She distracted him from the building pressures of his everyday life, and his unending fealty to his family and his estate. She was life and color in a world that was terribly dull._

_She wanted nothing more than to get away from him, and he wanted nothing more than to make her stay._

_It was only then, as she was poised to leave his life forever, that he realized what she had come to mean to him._

_"All I want to know is...what do you think you're doing, Cora?"_

_She shrugged, and the tears she'd held at bay all evening began to leak slowly over her cheeks. "I can't do this anymore, Robert."_

_He was about to ask what she can't do when she raised her gaze to his and her expression flamed, adding more delightful flush to her cheeks. Her words, however, dampened any ardour that might have been building._

_"I can't be a Countess. I can't be your mother and your wife. I can't be in love with a man who sees me as a duty, a brood mare, and perhaps a little lively distraction of an evening. Your mother is hateful, your father moody and distant. You come to my room at night, rut with me as though I were some trollop, then stroll away to your own dressing room. I'm alone twenty of every twenty four hours, and when we do spend time together you are forever criticising me. The servants snicker at me, and most don't even bother to wait until I'm out of the room to do so. I'm alone and lonely. I love you, Robert, I love you so terribly it makes me heart hurt. And you don't love me back."_

_"How can you say that?" He asked when he finally found his voice after her outburst, shock and shame rendering him momentarily mute._

_"It's been a year, Robert. A year tomorrow." She whispered, and the steam of her anger dissolved leaving her voice and heart hollow. "What you should ask is how I could possibly think otherwise?"_

_He opened his mouth to speak and closed it slowly._

_He had no answer for her._

* * *

_**A/N** - Obviously I could not leave you all so bitterly angry at Robert (or me!) for a full 24 hours. This way I can sleep in without feeling guilty. I just don't have that kind of evil in me (alas!). I'm not going to explain much more because it would ruin the point of the story, but at least ya'll will be able to sleep better without envisioning one (or both) of us drawn and quartered. The rest of your questions will be answered presently._

_Also? I lied. This is outlined for 4 chapters, not 3. Yay? _


	3. Chapter 3

"_It's been a year, Robert. A year tomorrow." She whispered, and the steam of her anger dissolved leaving her voice and heart hollow. "What you should ask is how I could possibly think otherwise?"_

_He opened his mouth to speak and closed it slowly._

_He had no answer for her._

* * *

A year. He knew it was his anniversary as his parents were arranging an elaborate dinner. It seemed something they would be enduring together - an obligation rather than a celebration. They would no doubt be forced to undergo snide sideways interrogation as to their lack of progeny.

He had hoped to find a few quiet moments in which to offer his sincere affection and appreciation for their union, and to present her with a ring he'd had commissioned in London. He suddenly felt unsure of the token, thinking he had perhaps misread their relationship up to his moment. Her crumpled expression only served to make him more hesitant.

He had failed, he knew, to make Cora feel welcome in his life. He had failed, not as a future Earl, but as a man. As a husband. It was of little wonder. Robert spent his life being groomed for one purpose - to one day become an Earl. His father provided for his son the best education their money could buy. His mother attended to the social upstanding of the Crawley family. Robert was to live up to one expectation - ensure the protection of the title. The delicacies of interpersonal relationship had not been on his list of priorities. He'd never felt the lack as keenly as he did at that moment, with Cora's expectant blue eyes searching his face.

"I'll return with you, Robert." Cora continued, obviously wounded by his stoic silence. "But I couldn't be in that house another moment."

He understood. God how he understood. Inside those beautiful walls that he loved beyond life, he was a cog. He and his new wife were mere gears in a machine far larger than their individual lives. They were sheltered, directed, trained. They were not individuals; they were lost. They lived beneath the heavy weight of expectation and it was taking its toll on them both.

He looked at the young woman beside him and saw someone he hardly knew, despite having lived with her for an entire year. He enjoyed speaking with her, found her conversation and her sharp wit to be a fair match for his own somewhat wicked sense of humor.

And of course, he enjoyed their evenings in her bedroom as well. He had thought, perhaps foolishly, she enjoyed them as well.

"I'm not entirely sure what I expected." She once more spoke into the heavy silence between them. "But it's all so different."

Robert made up his mind and crossed the room to sit beside his wife on the bed. Tentatively he reached for her hand.

In the past twelve months, he had related to Cora as a partner. A lifemate. A savior.

What he had forgotten to do, what he wasn't sure he knew how to do, was to relate to her as a woman.

"I'm sorry." Robert said at long last. "I suppose I hadn't realized...you're frightened."

She nodded, and brushed her free hand under her nose.

"So am I." He said, speaking a truth he had kept buried inside him for the majority of his adult life. "My father has run this estate successfully for longer than I've been alive, and each day the importance of my role in this legacy has been drilled into me. I cannot fail. It never occurred to me, was never even presented a possibility, that I would be given a chance to court happiness as well."

Her expression was dubious. "I don't make you happy."

"But you do, my darling. I may not be very adept at showing you, but knowing you are in this with me has eased the burden some. I'm sorry I forgot to share yours as well."

"Why don't you stay with me?" She asked quietly, her fingers brushing over the back of his hand. "You finish, press a kiss to my forehead and go back to your room. Do I displease you?"

What attracted Robert so strongly to Cora in the first place (besides the promise of money) was her strength and her self-assurance. She was so different from the pale, quiet ladies of his own society. It was a bit of a shock to him to see this vulnerability, though she refused to meet his gaze.

"My God, no." Robert breathed, and it was God's honest truth. He hadn't exactly been inexperienced on their honeymoon, but his previous encounters had always included an exchange of money. He'd never been expected to linger, to cuddle, or even to speak. He found himself blushing, blood rushing to his cheeks. "I'm awkward."

"You're gentle." She said, twining their fingers together. "You're kind. And then...you're gone."

"I felt as though I was using you. I took your money, removed you from your family, and laid claim to your body every night. It seemed too much to me to expect the privilege of your heart." When their gazes finally met, his look was pointed. "I didn't know you wanted me to stay. You never asked."

"A lady never asks!" Cora was scandalized, and now the color in her cheeks matched that of Robert's.

"Perhaps, but a wife should. I want you to be able to ask me anything. I hope...I hope you will one day be able to trust me."

"I do trust you, Robert." She leaned and rested her head on his shoulder. "I just don't know you very well."

"And yet you claim to be in love with me?" He asked, only partially teasing. "If I've been so awful..."

"Not awful." She corrected. "Distant."

"I'm not distant now." Her nearness was his undoing, and he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms. To show her in his actions all the things he wasn't quite sure how to say. That he not only desired her, found her pleasing, but...so much more.

"No. You're not." She slid even closer, curled her body into his side. "This is the longest conversation we've had in months."

"It's the house, isn't it?" Robert asked with a tone of discovery.

"The house. Your mother. Your father. I am an outsider and you are my lord."

"No, no. I'm your husband."

"My lord." She giggled, and her small hand came to rest on his thigh. "My Earl."

"My wife." He said, and weighed the meaning of the statement on his tongue and his heart. "My friend?"

"Always." Her arms circled his neck and her hug was a balm to his uneasy soul, a sign that they could repair the relationship they had forgotten to build.

Gently, carefully, he laid back against the pillows and pulled her along with him until she was resting on his chest. Her lovely lips dropped into a surprised "O" at the prodding of his desire against her thigh.

"A man's body never lies." Robert said bashfully, and Cora giggled once more. It was a sound he rarely heard and he silently vowed to change that.

"If my mother is to be believed, a man's body will always be willing even if the heart is not." She sat up and rested her palms on his chest, looking down at him with an expression of such soft devotion and apprehensiveness that his heart clenched.

"My heart is willing." Robert said gruffly, embarrassment evident when he averted his eyes momentarily before meeting her gaze.

"So is mine." Cora leaned down and kissed him sweetly, her lips trailing from his over his cheek and to his neck. "Tell me how to please you?"

"Ahhh," Robert couldn't exactly speak as her hands slipped between their bodies to fondle him tentatively. "That's working."

"No," Her voice was a bit sharper. "I'm serious. I want to know."

She pressed her palm against him again and his hips bucked.

"I..." Robert struggled to keep his breathing even. "I...I...um."

"Robert!" She was getting irritated and Robert was struggling beneath her to form a coherent thought. With one deft movement he wasn't even aware he was capable of, he flipped them and extricated Cora's hand from his groin. He was panting when he pressed his forehead to hers.

"When a man cannot form a sentence, my darling, you're most certainly pleasing him."

Her smile was like a sunbeam, and she looked so like the girl he'd danced with in London. Fiery and funny, he had somehow missed she was also terribly eager to please him.

They came together slowly and shyly. It was not an obligation in the broken down old Inn, but a choice. With their late night flight from the estate they had left behind their titles, the expectations on their future, and the artifices of propriety and manners that made them strangers in their marriage.

The room was bathed in a gentle golden glow as they undressed one another, and the air was heavy with their quiet murmurs. There was no place for modesty in the cramped space, no time for them to pretend desire didn't exist. She looked on his nude form openly, and he shuddered as her fingers ran along the planes and crevices of his entire body.

He held off as long as he could, hands twisting in the sheets as his body levitated off the mattress at her tentative ministrations. And then he was changing their positions, laying her back against the pillows and beginning his own investigation of the softness of her skin. She giggled and writhed in his arms, and he wondered how he had managed an entire year without experiencing such bliss with her.

When he finally entered her it was to their mutual groans of pressed her palms to his cheeks and pressed kisses all over her face and he set a lazy rhythm that took all of his self-control to maintain. He wanted it to last, wanted to remember this moment for always.

The moment he began to fall.

Within the four shabby walls of the Frog and Nightgown Inn, far away from the imposing walls of Downton, Robert and Cora made love for the very first time.

* * *

They stayed together until an hour before dawn, when he woke her with gentle kisses.

"We have to go back, Cora." He whispered when she grunted and burrowed into his chest. He hadn't known his wife was so grumpy when she was woken. He looked forward to exploring many more aspects of her personality in the weeks, months, years to come.

"Don'twantto." She mumbled, and he understood completely. The house, his home, was the source of many unpleasant memories for his wife. It was something he hoped they would change together.

"Come along, we have to get back before we're missed." He sat up and dressed swiftly before he helped her back into her nightgown and coat. Hand in hand they tiptoed down the back stairs and Robert had Cora wait just inside the door until he fetched his horse. They rode along the wooded road in silence and Robert wondered if she had fallen back asleep. But the closer they got to the estate, the more her muscles tensed. Just outside the courtyard to the side entrance he'd used earlier he placed a gentle kiss to her shoulder.

"Be careful going in." He advised. "I will put up the horse and meet you upstairs."

"In my bedroom?" She asked breathlessly, a small smile on her lips.

"In our bedroom."


	4. Chapter 4

Stepping through the door of the small room in the Inn was like stepping back in time. Cora sat on the bed fully dressed, her hands folded primly in her lap.

They were both older, thirty years having wreaked its inevitable havoc on them, but he still saw the young woman who entranced his heart and soul so many ages ago. The Inn had not updated to electricity in the intervening years, so flickering candlelight softened her skin and made her appear as youthful in reality as she did in his mind.

"I know we agreed..." He started to speak, but she shook her head.

"Don't ever apologize for wanting me." She repeated his words back to him, and he relaxed as he moved to sit beside her. Instinctively she reached for his hand and they sat side by side, shoulders pressed together.

"We conceived Mary in this room." Robert started again, squeezing Cora's hand in his. "We tried for a year at Downton. We met here a handful of times and suddenly...we created a life."

Had his mother ever found out what they were doing, she would have been apoplectic. Sneaking away to make love in a broken down Inn, far from her prying control in the halls of his vaunted family home? He was sure his mother would have far preferred him to take a mistress than to do something so obviously deviant.

With his wife.

"I do love you, Cora. Very much. More, I think, than I ever have." He drew her closer. "What happened in the last few years, I...I think I lost myself."

"We lost each other." Cora agreed sadly. She was no fool; she was well aware that Robert's eye had strayed. His heart too, if she was completely honest with herself. She carried her share of the blame for that. She was so consumed with her own metamorphosis she'd forgotten how fragile her husband's ego truly was and had been from the start. They had agreed, three decades previous, to share the burden together. She had taken on more of the responsibility, shouldered more of Downton than she had in the past, and that made Robert feel positively superfluous. It was something she was only able to recognize in retrospect and she regretted the years of neglect as she regretted little else.

"I loathe to think this room meant that much to our marriage, that we cannot function when it isn't available to us." Robert's lips quirked. The Inn, as everything else in the village, had been transformed during the war to help house the wounded, ill and returning men from the front. They had all but stopped using the room by that point, having overcome nearly all of the issues that haunted the early years of their marriage. Yet as the house began to consume Cora, as they were ushered into a world in which they were both struggling to find their respective places, they forgot how to relate to one another. With no Inn, with the loss of their son and the difficulties with their daughters, they no longer walked the same path. It was as though the road they each travelled skewed just a little bit and while it seemed they were parallel, little by little they ended up further and further apart.

So far away, now, they could no longer reach each other and only watch from a distant as they floundered in a new reality.

Robert, of course, felt he floundered more than Cora. But he had missed the significance of the fervor with which she threw herself into the house. As if by giving herself over to Downton, she was forgetting what she was to become.

He had no idea that she looked at Lady Violet and saw, with trepidation, her future. The woman that Downton would create in her, with its ceaseless demands and pressures.

Robert had once told her, while tangled together in this very bed, that he watched Downton drain the joy out of his parent's marriage. It had hardened them and made them bitter. They became excellent partners; theirs was not a marriage of love. When his father passed on, Violet seemed to be relieved that she would no longer be expected to maintain the house. She could sit back and judge, be difficult and demanding, and relinquish her hold to Cora.

"I realize what a rarity we are, Robert." Cora sighed and laid her head on her husband's shoulder, comforted when he reached an arm around and pulled her closer. "I learned very young how our society works. How many of my acquaintances have taken lovers. And I've fended off my share of advances and propositions over the years."

She was pleased to see his cheeks redden with irritation at this remark. He was terribly, adorably jealous and once told her it was because he knew the manner of men in the peerage, who used women to satisfy their own base urges. With her doe-eyed innocence she had solemnly told him that she didn't believe he was capable of something so reprehensible.

Now those eyes were older, more world-weary, and they knew without a doubt what he was capable of. The corner of her mouth tilted up into a sardonic grin, but her tone was gentle. She captured his chin with her fingertips until she was sure he was looking at her.

"I don't believe you're capable of something so reprehensible." She pressed their lips together, as both an act of forgiveness and apology. The rift that occurred between them was a perfect storm of war, loss and terrible strain. Men, she heard it said, can be at both their best and their worst in war. In her experience that also applied to women.

"You are the best of me," Robert said as he laid her back against the pillows, lips blazing lazy trails over her face and neck.

"We are the best of each other."

His fingers were nimble as they went to work at the many buttons of her dress, which was one of her more conservative ones. Not silk and lace, satin and glass, but straight edges and responsible lines. Her underthings were equally utilitarian and she had to stifle a small laugh at his look of irritation at her plain corset.

"Just be thankful it isn't a brassiere." She noted as his fingers plucked at the ties. She knew they confounded him more than the corset, with its eyelets and complications and modern ingenuity.

"Why is it women are suited up as if in armor day in and day out?" He groused, feeling like a fumbling young man he once was, rather than the skilled lover he hoped he'd become. There was something about Cora, something in her guileless and sincere allure, that made him feel youthfully clumsy in her presence, even after all this time. Perhaps especially.

"Women's rights, Robert?" Cora finally stilled his hands, sensing his frustration. She pushed past him to stand and finish what he started. When she looked up her expression was exasperated and she motioned impatiently with her head.

Not one to miss a hint, Robert began to strip as well, although he was finished long before her. He settled against the headboard and watched as she paced and shed layers, carefully laying them out so as not to wrinkle them. He wondered how their positions had reversed so thoroughly. In the early days of marriage, he was careful (she dubbed it 'prissy') about his clothing and each night, regardless of their ardor, found it impossible to do anything until it was tucked neatly away. She, on the other hand, had no issue with leaving her things scattered across the floor and fussed at him to come to her, even as he laid out his socks just so. Now, his clothing was haphazardly tossed on the floor of the small inn while she set to making her own things neatly set aside.

Although he had to admit, these days even her utilitarian frocks cost him far more than his own clothes so perhaps she had simply become aware of the value of things.

It saddened him to know that war had done that - had made his wife so particularly aware of cost and fiscal responsibility. He'd never wanted her to have to think of anything but happiness, but it was not in his control. Not anymore.

He realized with a start that he had mentally wandered and came back to the present on Cora's slight cough. She stood across from him, fully nude, her hands resting on her hips. Her expression was sardonic and when he finally caught her gaze, she shook her head slightly.

"Have I aged so that I've lost your attention?" She teased, her tone gentle so as not to make him believe she meant her words in any way harsh.

He held his arms out to her and she took the few steps to the bed unabashedly, threading her fingers with his before settling beside him on the thin mattress.

They loved in their bedroom in Downton, happily and sweetly. Low lights and heavy blankets and whispered encouragements. They were proper in their bedroom in Downton.

At the Inn, propriety had no place.

They were not strangers in this room and had no secrets. They shed whatever shame and insecurities they carried with their clothing. They learned about one another in this room, each slope and angle, crevice and corner. Without judgement or fear of being deemed improper, they studied desire and cherished honesty in this room.

Cora touched her husband boldly, pleased to see his reactions as strong as ever, his desire evident against her palm and moments later, her lips.

When he begged her to slow down, to give him a moment she gave him a sly smile and continued her ministrations. He could only gaze dumbly at the dark fall of her hair over his thighs and give himself over to her.

He was still seeing sparks of light behind his eyelids when she curled atop his chest, pressing her nose to the underside of his jaw.

"Thank you," he rasped and his fingers traced over the delicate bumps of her spine, her skin pebbling under his touch. "And much as I would love to be twenty five again and capable, I think you've been short-changed."

Cora curled tighter to him and guided his hands between them, through her curls, to the soft apex of her thighs.

"I'm sure you'll figure something out."

And he did. Of course he did.

* * *

They slept together through the night, curled together intimately on a bed less than half the size of theirs at home. Robert had no idea where he left off and his wife began, her dark hair spread wildly over his chest, tangled in his fingers. Their legs were twisted in sheets and her breath puffed against his arm. He was loathe to wake her, but they would need to return to the house before dawn.

"I know." She murmured, stretching languorously before sitting up and meeting her gaze. Her expression was soft and kind, and quite relaxed. It was as though the last handful of years had melted from her, the worry lines between her eyes disappearing in the flickering candlelight. "This is the last time here, isn't it?"

He brushed a strand of hair from her face before pressing their lips together. "I think it must be."

She nodded, cradling his hand between hers. "We won't forget again. Who we are. Will we?"

Robert opened his mouth to reassure her, to tell her of course not, that their love was too strong. But ever the pragmatist, he knew they would lose their way. The pressures of Downton would bow them, stress them and cause them pain. It was as inevitable as the march of time.

They had grown beyond these walls and beyond these secrets. They would learn to find each other in the lives of their children, their legacy and perhaps, one day, their grandchildren.

They would set aside this childish game and hidden place.

They would merge the lives of the Earl and the Countess with the love of Robert and Cora.

He had to believe that they were strong enough to make it.

So long as the remembered to face it together.

*fin*

_A/N - so I only took *mumblemumble* long to finish this. I ran out of steam because I had no new episodes! The new season took me back and made me fall in love with them again (ironic considering the state of things?) so I came back and finished this. Now who's going to write me some deliciousness? where's subtle_tea and the end of To Light A Fire? I was a bad child and wandered away, but I'm back and I want to play! Come playmates! Let us play!_


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